


In the past

by LadyIrina



Series: The Mandalorian, his son and the Storm Trooper [6]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din is angry and Corin is sad, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Michael started it all really, Mose makes friends in strange ways, Paz has a secret, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unrequited Love, or should that be enemies to employer and employee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23108956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/pseuds/LadyIrina
Summary: Four snippets from four different characters, all set at different moments in the past.Edit; ch 4, Flashback to Din's childhood
Relationships: awkward friendship - Relationship, budding friendship - Relationship, enemies to friends - Relationship
Series: The Mandalorian, his son and the Storm Trooper [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1560925
Comments: 266
Kudos: 811





	1. Chapter 1

Making his way down the desolate, gray hallway, Mose is filled with both anger and irritation. It was bad enough he had been sent out to finish this deal like some servant, -Palla had really enjoyed telling him he had to go- but for these idiots to start arguing on the agreed price on the goods?  
If Mose can't find some way to sort this out, Palla will take even bigger joy in proclaiming Mose's failure in front of everyone.

Another stab of anger goes through Mose as he curses fate for being born into one of the lowest Hutt clans. Palla would never send any of the higher ranking families out like this.  
Mose is 236 years, not some damn Huttlet, yet they insist on treating him like one.  
A couple of centuries of resentment is making him drool and Mose snorts annoyed. He's going to have to spend hours trying to work out this mess instead of eating and sleeping. And in the best case scenario; he's going to head back with the original deal intact, and then Palla will drag him for not being able to get a better one. There was just no way Mose could win here.

Mose comes to an abrupt halt when he turns a corner and finds that there is no sign of his guards by the door to the storage room.  
His first instinctual reaction is anger at them deserting their posts, even more disrespect to him, but then he hears low voices coming from inside the room and Mose concludes that the guards have either been taken out or is in on what is happening: Someone is trying to steal his merchandise.

Growling, Mose feels more drool escape his mouth and he clenches his hands into fists before moving over and slamming up the door.

Inside, five thieves wearing gray and hooded cloaks are hovering over the crates. They spin around to face him. The two guards are lying on the floor, either knocked out or dead. 

Mose slithers into the room and curls his tail to his side. “Good. I felt like killing something.”

They launch their attacks. Mose whips one of them aside with his tail, slamming them into the wall, before he grabs the arm of another and flings the thief at a third hard enough for them to crash into a crate and shatter it.  
Number four actually gets close enough to slice a vibroblade across Mose's belly, but the thick hide and the fat underneath hinders any real damage and he swats the culprit away with the back of his hand hard enough to snap their neck.

Quick reflexes makes it so Mose manages to dodge a blaster shot from the last thief still standing and he whips his tail out to deal with the threat. Annoyingly, the thief is also damn quick and manages to jump to safety on top of a crate where they take another shot at Mose.

This time the shot grazes Mose's neck and he dives forward into a strike, landing his entire weight on the crate.

The crate is flattened, but the thief is not. They merely jump over to yet another crate and takes aim again. However, Mose is prepared this time and is already reaching out to grab the blaster rifle and yanks it out of their hands. The movement makes the hood fall back and reveals the thief to be nothing but a damn Twi'lek!

Mose's tongue lolls out in amusement and the yellow Twi'lek has the audacity to grin as well.

Oh, he's going to enjoy killing her.

Rolling, crushing several more crates under him, forcing her to move, he waits for the perfect moment and then he reaches out to grab her; aiming to tear her frail limbs from her body.  
Instead he is surprised to feel her tiny hand take a hold of his wrist and sees her flip up to land her dainty feet on his arm and then, in two steps, she is kneeling on his shoulder and has the tip of a vibroblade half an inch from the center of his right eye.

Mose stands very still.

The Twi'lek hasn't stopped grinning. “You know,” she says cheerfully, and to his surprise in fluent Huttese, “you're the first Hutt I've ever seen do their own dirty work.” She actually laughs at his angry growl at the reminder of the humiliation. “Relax. I like it. Also, you are damn fast. You're a pretty good fighter.”

“You are shitty thieves.” Mose rumbles.

The Twi'lek shrugs, all ease except for how steady her grip on that blade is. “You're right. I need a better crew.” Her grin widens. “You want a job?”

Mose blinks. Is she serious? “Work? For you?” A Hutt working for a Twi'lek? Absurd!

She pretends to think about it, then winks at him. “I will give you... ten percent.”

Opening his mouth to mock her ridiculous suggestion, Mose suddenly hesitates. If he says no, odds are good that she will ram that blade into his eye and kill him. She might act all sweet, but Mose sees the truth behind the mask. He knows a killer when he sees one. And Mose doesn't want to die protecting some shitty deal that he didn't care about in the first place.  
There is also the fact that if Mose was to survive, and by some miracle manages to salvage the deal with half the cargo now crushed, all he has to look forward to is more of these humiliating jobs.

“Twenty.” Mose hears himself saying. “I want twenty.”

That actually surprises the Twi'lek, who clearly did not expect him to agree, but she recovers admirably fast. “Deal.” She jumps down and glances around. “I'm Zev'sonya. You can either call me that or 'boss'. And as I doubt these guys will be helping us, I suggest you start by carrying out what is left of the crates. My ship is parked out back.”

Mose smirks. He sees she might appear relaxed, but she is keeping a wary eye on him and has the vibroblade ready. Not a complete idiot then. Good. But adept at playing one so others might mistakenly believe they have the upper hand. Even better.  
Fine. Mose have nothing to lose. What is one more humiliation compared to a life time of them from being born in the wrong family. At least now he will have freedom to do whatever he damn well pleases. Suck on that, Palla.

And he can always kill that Twi'lek later. Right? Her and Palla both.

\- - -

Hauroko is screaming. 

Kiergan jumps up and is on his way over to her bunk but Leave-it beats him to it; climbing in next to her, holding her tight, stroking her hair and whispering gentle reassurances.  
The screams continue for a few more moments before they die down to heartbreaking sobs and she merely shivers in the embrace.

Leave-it glances up at Kiergan, awfully pale in the poorly lighted room. His usually sparkling eyes are filled with sadness and a resignation that doesn't belong there.  
Hauroko has torn open her wound again and blood is trailing down her face along with her tears.

Kiergan clenches his jaw hard, feeling the urge to scream as well, but turns and walks over to stare out the window instead. 

Ever since Moff Gideon had slaughtered Hauroko's squad in front of her eyes, she has not been the same. They had to beg her to sleep in their room instead of alone in the room she had shared with two Troopers from her squad, but she keeps wakes up screaming and there is nothing he or Leave-it can do to help her.

Things have been bad for a while, but they only seem to get worse. What is the point in fighting a losing battle? For people who will just as easily shoot you as the enemy? Is the paycheck really worth this?  
Glancing over at Hauroko and Leave-it, Kiergan knows that if they continue on the path they are, it will kill them all. He can see no other outcome.

Some of the Troopers are still talking about restoring the Empire, but Kiergan isn't sure it can be done. And a part of him isn't so sure it should be done.

But thoughts like that can get him shot if he isn't careful.

Kiergan is pretty sure it was thoughts like that which had gotten ST-2199 killed. He tries to think about him as little as possible, but he can't help wondering if he had been right.

_Entering the medbay, Kiergan sees ST-2199 lying in the hospital bed and a nurse just about done changing the bacta wrapping on his leg. He waits for her to finish before walking over. “Hey, loser.” Kiergan smiles down at the kid. “I heard you got yourself shot?”  
He also heard that ST-2199 was one of the few survivors. All the Death Troopers had been taken out. It had been quite the brutal battle on that planet.  
  
“Yeah, I...” ST-2199 glances around and leans closer to Kiergan with an awestruck look on his face. “I saw him. I saw CT-113! He shot me.”  
  
Kiergan raises an eyebrow. “You don't have to sound so happy about it, you weirdo. Getting shot is not a compliment, you know.”  
  
ST-2199 shakes his head, still eager. “No, you don't understand. He could have killed me. He had me point blank. But he didn't! He saved my life.” He leans back into the bed, sighs with utmost happiness. “He was awesome.”  
  
Kiergan needs to think for a moment before he can actually process the words. “Awesome? He's a traitor and he shot you. Awesome?”  
  
ST-2199 hesitates, suddenly no longer smiling, then looks back up at him. “You know just as well as I do that things are bad. All those rumors. Moff Gideon. The wars. Those children... It's not right, ST-4501. I think CT-113 is right. He got out. Why can't we do the same? Why should we just follow orders?”  
  
Kiergan tenses up, glances around to make sure no one is listening. “Are you crazy?”  
  
ST-2199 doesn't seem crazy. He seems determined. “It's not just you and me. You know that too. A lot want out. And I'm sure that if we can just find CT-113, he will help us. I know he will.”  
  
Kiergan sighs. “Get some rest. Your mind is scrambled. Sleep and you'll come to your senses again.” He forces a smile and ruffles ST-2199's hair before walking out.  
  
But he didn't stop talking about CT-113.  
  
And then ST-2199 was killed in action._

“CT-113...” Kiergan mumbles.

“What?” Leave-it asks.

Hauroko glances up at him as well.

“Michael said he would help us if we could find him...” Kiergan walks over to the others. “He was right. We need to get out before this insanity kills us all. I didn't sign up for this, for what Moff Gideon has us do, did you?”

Leave-it gives a little shake of his head. “No...”

Hauroko does the same. She hasn't spoken for two days.

Kiergan tries to remember everything Michael had told him and what he'd heard from other Troopers. “They say he's traveling with a Mandalorian. In a Razor Crest ship.”

“So if we can find the ship, we can find him...” Leave-it mumbles.

It would be close to impossible. A single ship among all those stars.  
But it is hope.

And rebellions are built on hope.

\- - -

Din and Paz are at each others throats again. It's nothing new. In fact, it is almost unsettling if a week passes by and they don't try to kill each other at least once if they are in the Covert together.

Still, as Raga watches them have at it, she frowns thoughtfully.  
Paz loves to provoke. He always has, from he was a (not so) little boy. He takes great delight in being loud and prodding at other Mandalorians to get a reaction, but while his anger is quick to flare it is also quick to die out.

Din is different.  
Din is constantly simmering with anger, even when he's calm. There is a storm inside him, all fury and hurt.

There was a time when he unleashed all that rage on his missions, but now he has become an expert at hiding it with only small outbursts to vent every once in a while. Raga isn't sure which option is the most damaging to him.  
She knows that this kind of anger is the kind that can consume a person.

There is a loud sound as Paz and Din tumble to the ground and keep trying to kill each other.  
Sighing, Raga moves over so two fellow Mandalorians can also spectate at a safe distance.

Most of them have friends and family within the Covert.  
But not Din.  
He is alone.  
She wonders if he's lonely. Or if he even knows that he is. 

He will donate large sums to the Foundlings, but he doesn't interact with them. He doesn't really interact with anybody.  
He just works and feeds off his anger and pain.

After a couple of rounds, the two men end up standing in the middle of the room, panting and glaring at each other, exhausted but unwilling to be the one to admit defeat.

That is when Raga moves forward, places herself between them, puts three fingers to Din's breastplate and adds pressure until he backs up a step, then turns to face Paz as he is about to follow and dares him to try to move her.

Paz growls, but settles. Din glares for a few seconds longer before he turns and stalks out of the room.

The fight over, the other Mandalorians starts to disperse as well, credits changing hands as bets are settled and low mumbling places bets for the next fight.

“One day you won't be there to save his ass.” Paz rumbles, looming over her.

Raga sighs. “Why are you so sure it is his ass I'm saving?” She ignores his offended stuttering and turns to look at the doorway instead. “There is so much anger in him.”

Paz scoffs. “There are plenty of outsiders to kill or stupid enough to let him between their thighs to vent some frustration.”

“That's how we deal with it, Paz.” Raga crosses her arms thoughtfully, shifting her weight to one hip. “I don't think he works that way. He's different. He needs someone, a partner by his side, to have a child, a family.”

There is an unexpected amount of silence from Paz before he speaks.  
“A lot of us want that.” He says, and the undecipherable tone to his voice makes Raga glance over at him.

It is extremely rare that she can't read him and now he suddenly has his walls up. She frowns.

Paz grunts annoyed and heads for the door. “I'm going to do some target practice and pretend it's Din. See you later.”

“Later.” Raga mumbles, thoughtfully. What is up with the men at the Covert these days? 

Still, Paz has always been difficult. Ever since they were children, Paz has been loud and getting into trouble. It's nothing new.  
But she doesn't like how Din is becoming more and more distant to them.

She remembers the terrified child that was brought to the Covert and how quickly the fear had turned into anger and hate. The Covert has raised a magnificent warrior. He outshone them all. It had brought Din this far, but it wasn't something a man could live on and live long. Eventually that anger would bring him to his grave.

Unless he found something else.

Unless he found someone.

\- - -

Nivida watches the cadets as they finish up and start to head back to the barracks after today's training and he's not surprised to see Valentis walking alone.

The boy did well today, as always. He's in peak condition. Macero had honed his son into a fine fighting machine by starting a young age, too young in Nivida's opinion, but the results were undeniable. Just by looking at him you could tell there was a lot of potential in him like a thoroughbred animal flaunted on an auction.

And speaking of looks, young Valentis has inherited much of his features and the eye color from his mother, a reputed beauty, along with the sturdy frame from his father.  
It is also the galaxy's worst kept secret that his mother was Admiral Motti's cousin.

All in all, Corin Valentis has many advantages, so it is a great mystery to Nivida why he never uses them.

The boy looks like a soldier, but he certainly does not act like one.  
He does what he is told, always, but Nivida sees he's most pleased when he can fade into the background and be ignored. If called upon, Valentis will rarely lift his gaze from the ground. One time he even flinched when Nivida barked out an order.

The boy is not afraid of pain, not at all. Nivida has seen him take pain without a sound that would have experienced soldier scream in agony. But he almost seems reluctant to dish it out.  
In training, he will do what it takes to bring his training partner down, but it is always just efficient and with no glee. What needs to be done, but nothing more.  
He takes no pleasure in hurting others and in the Academy, that can be a problem.

The other cadets, first held at bay due to his connection to Motti, smelled weakness and it didn't take long before they started nipping at Valentis.  
When he didn't put an end to it, the nipping evolved into big bites and Nivida was about to interfere, Macero would make his life a living hell if he didn't make sure his son survived, when the boy finally snapped and fought back. Literally. After that, they went back at nipping again and him merely taking it and that is how it has been since.

It's a shame, really. Nivida has no doubt that the boy could have become exactly what his father wanted; a rising star within the Imperial ranks if he just put some effort into it, but nothing seems to be able to motivate the boy.  
Maybe if he had some friends it would encourage him?

Nivida glances over at the door leading to the neighboring hall, where he suspects Achian is training his group. He has older recruits, grown men and women, maybe Valentis would be a better fit there?  
He certainly doesn't act his age; no drinking, no partying, no joy riding or getting reprimanded for unbefitting behavior.

As Valentis walks by Nivida, a blank expression on his face and shoulders slightly hunched, the decision is made.

Later that evening, Nivida tracks down Achian and airs the idea for him.

“We could give it a try.” Achian sighs, rubbing his neck. “I mean, you will owe me one. Taking on Macero's brood is not exactly my dream come true.” They all knew the man was following his son's progress with rapt attention. “But one loser decided to drop out yesterday. I have an opening and I think he might be a good fit in Group 4. They are rowdy, but one of them just had a kid and that babyface might trigger some paternal instincts there.”

Nivida exhales with relief. “Brilliant. I'll get the transfer done at once.”

Nodding, waving him away, Achian sees the men in question walking by and lets out a sharp whistle. “Dee. Drop. Pat. Over here. Now.”

Once they are standing at attention next to him, Achian explains the situation. “We're getting a new recruit. From Nivida's group.”

Drop gasps with delight. “We're getting a baby?”

Achian grunts. “Clear out the quitter's bunk. I'll have the kid report to you later.”

“Roger that.” Pat replies. Always the serious one.

“Don't let me down, boys.” Achian says, then gives them a salute, which they return, and wanders away to deal with paperwork.

Drop wraps one arm around Pat and one around Dee. “Guys. We're going to be fathers. All of us, not just Pat anymore. Our time to shine has come.”

Snorting a laugh, Dee shoves him away. Pat does the same.

Three hours later, Corin swallows hard and knocks on their door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A second insight into the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this wasn't a chapter I planned. It just happened.

The looks of disgust and contempt are not new to Mose. He's grown up with them, wherever he goes there is no escaping them and even getting them from his own kind has been his everyday life for over two hundred years.  
It is the price to pay for being a Hutt and for being born into a low-ranking family.

Mose is almost sorry his father is dead otherwise he might've wanted to kill him himself. Whatever had possessed the old man to create an offspring at such a low rank had left Mose with a life that sucked from the start and all the way to what he expects will soon be his end.

Palla is smirking down at him from her seat on top of the stairs. Smugly content that her lackeys managed to capture her traitorous henchman.

Mose clenches his hands, feeling the shackles around his wrist tightening, hating how he is yet again at the mercy of others, having been dragged into the big, gaudy room with several Hutts lined up along the walls and Palla herself up on her perch. Countless slaves from countless species are scattered around in the room, staring at the floor with dead eyes. Guards are everywhere.

For a year, working with that crazy Twi'lek, Mose had some fun at least. More fun that he'd had in a lifetime serving Palla and the other families.  
Sure everyone in the Galaxy hated Mose at the mere sight of him and none of the other Twi'lek's crew members wanted anything to do with him, but Mose got to smack their targets around, didn't get yelled at, got paid and received as much food as he could eat. Yeah, it was totally worth it.

He wonders if the other Hutts knows what they're missing out on or of they're all too busy conspiring against each other and trying to hoard riches they can't possibly hope to spend even throughout their long lives.  
Idiots. The lot of them. Mose hopes they all choke and die.

Right now they have some pretty sweet deals with the Empire, but it won't last forever and maybe that will be the day when the Hutt rule collapses. Mose only hates that he won't be around to watch.

“Any last words?” Palla asks, her high-pitched voice is brimming with glee.

Mose draws a breath to deliver words that will definitely speed up his execution when the window in the ceiling explodes and between the shower of shards dropping down; there is a flash of yellow.

Hutts and slaves all panic and it takes all of Palla's armed guards to bring them to silence, but Mose hasn't moved.  
He's too busy staring at the most definitely _insane_ Twi'lek standing between him and Palla, looking at Mose with a wide grin on her face.

A guard charges at her with a spear and she fires her blaster, taking him down, without even looking in his direction.

Mose feels himself drool, mouth slack with stunned surprise, and he snaps back to himself. “What are you doing here?”

The Twi'lek shrugs a shoulder. “You're on my crew. You work for me, I look after you.”

That brings a snort of amusement from Mose, hardly believing what he's hearing despite her fluent Huttese, but also a shriek of fury from Palla.

“Kill them both!” She orders.

The Twi'lek goes into a battle stance and within seconds she is a whirling blur of blaster shots, vibroblades and a creepily melodiously laugh. Even Mose flinches when she comes close enough to knock his shackles off. 

“Come on, big guy. Time to go.” She winks at him, twirling both of her vibroblades.

Mose snorts with amusement again, then yanks her close and curls around her; protecting her from the whip of a Hutt tail before he can really think about what he's doing.  
Surprised at his own move, Mose blinks down at her.

Zev'sonya merely grins back up at him. “Ready?”

Mose smirks. “Let's go.”

\- - -

The campfire gives a nice glow and some much appreciated heat, but it is most definitely Kiergan and Hauroko huddling up on either side of him that is keeping Leave-it warm. There were some things the army had taught them that was worth holding on to.

But mostly Leave-it is keen on starting a new life and putting the old one behind. No more killing. No more shouted orders. No more watching friends die.  
Now he is going to eat exactly what he wants, sleep for as long as he wants and talk as much as he wants!

Oh, and he wants a girlfriend.

Glancing over to his left, he sees Hauroko's red hair and he knows some would point to her as the obvious choice, but, ew, no. He loved her, would die for her, but that would be like dating his sister.

Leave-it moves his gaze over to the hammock strung up at the treeline and sees the Twi'lek dangling a well-shaped leg from it. From what he'd seen of her, she was hot, but unfortunately, he suspects she would rather slit his throat than go anywhere with him.

Also, her pet Hutt would probably eat his corpse.

Voices catches his attention and Leave-it looks over to find CT-113 standing by the ship's ramp with his Mandalorian. No. Wait. Corin. They have names now. No more numbers.

He remembers how Michael had gone on and on about Corin. Everything from what he'd said to constant nagging about how he'd looked. Truth be told, Leave-it had thought Michael had been exaggerating how the man looked, but no. No, the guy actually looks that good.  
If guys did it for him, Leave-it would absolutely have hit that.

And then most likely been killed by the Mandalorian after. There is definitely something going on between those two. The bounty hunter's body language is screaming possessiveness. Leave-it has seen Kell dragons which were less territorial and less intent on using deadly force than this guy.

Oh well.

Leave-it sighs and rests his head on Kiergan's shoulder, going back to staring into the flames.  
Michael would have loved this.  
He should have been here. They would not be here if not for him...

  


_”And then he comes bursting out through the bushes. I was so surprised I nearly dropped my blaster.” Michael pushes his food around on the plate, grinning._

_Leave-it is almost lying on top of the table, head supported in his hand, half-dead from boredom. “And then he shot you.”_

_“He, uh, shot me.” Michael agrees, a little awkwardly, giving his food a final push before looking over at him. “He could have killed me, Leo. But he didn't.”_

_Making a frustrated sound Leave-it lets his head thump down against the table. “You gotta stop this, Michael. The traitor shot you, probably meant to kill you and missed. Remember what they told us about him.”_

_Michael reaches out and takes a hold of his arm, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “What if they're lying?”_

_Blinking, Leave-it turns his head to stare at him. “What?”_

_“You and I have both seen Gideon execute Troopers for simply talking to him at the wrong moment.” Michael says, his words rushing out. “CT-113 could have killed me and he didn't. He even told me how to stay alive.”_

_Leave-it tries to pull his arm away but Michael won't let him._

_“Think about it.” Michael insists. “They told us to join the army, to get rich and to be heroes. They told us we'd be helping people, bring peace back to the Galaxy, bring prosperity back to our homes. Have you seen any of that? I sure haven't.”_

_Leave-it sits up, shaking his head. He does not want to hear this. This is traitor talk._

_“They say he left because he was a coward, a weakling, yet he has survived everything they have thrown at him. I saw him, Leo. I'm telling you; he's no weakling. That's why they're scared of him!”_

_Leave-it yanks his arm free. “Shut up.” He hisses. “You can't say stupid shit like that.”_

_“If we can find him, he'll help us.” Michael continues. His eyes are bright with what Leave-it would only later recognize as hope. He hadn't seen it in his friend's eyes for so long that he didn't remember what it looked like. “He'll help us get out, Leo. I know he will. We don't have to do this shit anymore. We could be free instead of hired killers.”_

_Leave-it gets up on his feet in an abrupt motion. He shakes his head, fear making him angry. “You need to shut up, Michael. And have the nurses check if you got some kind of brain injury back there. I'll see you later.”_

_Several laters later, Michael died. Killed in battle. Shot by CT-113, they said.  
That's when Leave-it knew they were lying._

  


Blinking the memories away, Leave-it isn't cold, but he still shivers.  
Michael should have been here. Maybe he would have if Leave-it had listened back then...

Feeling him shiver, Kiergan slides an arm around him and Hauroko silently braids her fingers with his.

Michael is gone. But they are still here. They had found Corin and just like Michael had predicted, he is going to help them find their freedom too.  
Yeah, Michael would have loved this.

\- - -

“NOO!” Raga can't hold back the scream of pain and fury when the shuttle explodes. It's the third one to be blown apart by the damn Star Destroyer hovering above the Nevarro, those low-lives have no qualms about killing Foundlings as well as Mandalorians, and Raga feels hatred burning in her throat.

The entire city is swarming with Imperial Troopers.  
Nobody had been prepared for the attack. All of a sudden a whole bunch of Storm Troopers had flooded the city and gone straight for the Covert; aiming to exterminate everything living.

Paz steps back behind the building where she is standing, breathing hard and cursing through gritted teeth. His armor has taken several hits and he's getting tired.  
Raga has lost count of how many hours they have been fighting Storm Troopers, Death Troopers and Mandalore knows what kind of Troopers. She's exhausted, but she's too angry to care.  
She's going to kill them all! For her friends and the Foundlings.

Stepping out into the street, firing her blasters, taking down one buckethead after another, trying to push the memories of the exploding ships out of her mind, Raga grunts when one shot punches into her breastplate, pushing her a step back. She shoots and kills the Storm Trooper responsible.

It's the Death Trooper that gets her.

The shot hits just above her belt, burrows deep into her, tearing at her flesh and leaves a large hole for her blood to leak out. 

Raga instinctively fires her blaster and kills the Death Trooper. She then stumbles over to seek cover behind the building next to where Paz is standing and unleashing his own fury at the Storm Troopers. She leans her back against the building, presses her hand against the wound, and that is when the pain hits her.

Paz glances over, hearing her pained sound despite the chaos of the fighting in the city. He sees she's hit and instantly lowers his gun, ignoring the Storm Troopers shooting at him, and merely walks over in a daze to hover next to her.

Oh, it is really hurting now. Raga sinks down to sit on the ground, knowing by experience that this is far more than a mere battle injury. This is a permanent retirement ticket. “Paz...”

He shakes his head a little, but doesn't actually say anything. He's just standing there.

“Paz, listen,” Raga grits her teeth against the pain, “you need to get out of here. There's too many of them. There is one ship left. You got to get them to safety, Paz.”

Paz doesn't reply, doesn't move, just stares.

“Dammit, Paz!” Raga snaps. “You got to go! Now!” She knows, as good as he is, and he is damn good, he won't be able to hold back the bucketheads on his own. And the Covert needs him. “Go!”

Paz still doesn't move. 

“PAZ! Snap out of it! You got to go!” Raga reaches out and punches him in the shin.  
That finally makes him respond. Just not the way she expects.

Paz kneels down next to her, reaches out to check her wound and for a crazy moment she could almost swear his hand was trembling. “I'm done for, Paz. I'm sorry. I messed up.” Raga takes a hold of his wrist. “But you have to go. Now. Move your ass, handsome. Go!”

Paz hesitates, then he has the nerve to shake his head again. “No.”

Raga blinks. “No? What are you talking about? Listen, you big dummy, you go, or I will shoot you myself.”

“No.” Paz repeats, swinging his gun back to attach it to his back and picks her up like she's some dainty bride. The shock and the pain numbs her for long enough for him to take several long steps in direction of the Covert before Raga can object.  
“Paz, what do you think you're doing?”

“I'm not leaving you.” He's using his stubborn voice. Raga recognizes that voice.

And it breaks her heart. If he stays, he's going to die. She is not afraid of dying, it comes with the job and she fought well, but she can't stand the thought of him dying.  
“You have to go. Leave me, it's okay, I'll take as many of them with me as I can and-”

“I'm not leaving you.” There is a touch of anger to his voice now. Paz shoulders the door leading underground to the Covert open and heads inside.

He brings her back to the Forge. He brings her _home_. Paz kneels down and binds her wound despite the futility of the act. He stands guard over her, killing every Trooper stupid enough to venture below. And he completely disregards Raga's constant orders for him to leave.

When she grows too weak to yell at him anymore, Paz kneels down next to her, leans in to gently rest his beskar forehead to the side of her helmet, and this time she could have sworn the entire man is trembling. Even his breathing sounds strained. She finds his hand and curls her fingers around it.

Things then only gets weirder when Din and his boy appear with their Foundling and it does 'something' that takes the pain away. No, not just the pain, the entire dying part too.  
“Well... This just got interesting.” Raga says, intrigued.

But Paz just steps away, turns his back on them and doesn't move for the longest time. Then Raga and the other three jump like startled nerfs when he slams his fist into the wall.

\- - -

“You're late.” Dee comments in a dry voice the second Drop comes running through the door to their bunk room while pulling his shirt over his head.

“I know.” Drop huffs, throwing away his shirt and shoving down his pants, nearly bringing his underwear along as well.

“Now we're gonna be late.” Pat points out, lounging on the bed.

“I know!” Drop exclaims, hopping over to where his black undersuit is hanging, trying to kick his pants off one leg at the time.

“I polished your armor.” Corin offers, feeling bad for the stressed out man.

“Kid. I love you. You're my only friend in this room.” Drop declares, pulling on the black undersuit with an impressive speed. “I'll buy you a drink after the ceremony.”

“You're broke.” Dee points out, picking up a piece of Drop's armor and starts attaching it to Drop's back while he is putting on his boots.

“I'll buy you a drink next payday.” Drop corrects, not missing a beat or stopping to get dressed for one second.

“The state of your armor, you owe the kid at least two drinks.” Pat points out as he steps over to attach a piece on Drop's upper arm. “And an apology to the Imperial Army. That thing was filthy.”

“Yes, yes!” Drop snaps, focusing on attaching one piece after another, then has a moment of frantic scouting before he discovers Corin is holding out his helmet to him. Grabbing it, Drop grins, ruffles Corin's hair and the four of them hurries out of the room and head for the docking bay.

They are, of course, the last to arrive, receiving more than a few angry glares from the officers, but they quickly find their place among their battallion members and stand to attention to blend in with the rows upon rows of Troopers already there.

After a couple of minutes of nothing happening, Drop leans sideways a little, towards Corin on his left, and semi-whispers his question. “So? How did it go?”

Clearing his throat a little awkwardly, Corin shrugs. “It was... fine.”

“Fine?” Drop turns his helmet to actually look at him. “Just... fine? The girl last week, she was 'fine', and now you're giving this guy a 'fine' too? You are awfully picky.”

Corin shifts his weight uneasily. “I'm... I'm not picky. I'm not saying there's something wrong with them. They were-”

“-fine. Yes. We've heard.” Pat sighs from where he is standing behind Corin. “Everything is always fine with you.”

Dee turns his helmet to glance back at the three behind him. “Maybe you guys shouldn't force him out on these dates if he doesn't want to go?”

“We're not forcing him!” Drop scoffs, almost forgetting to keep his voice down. “Tell him, Corin.”

“T-they're not forcing me.” Corin says. “It's-”

“Fine.” All three declare at the same time he does.

An officer turns to give them a glare and they straighten back to attention.

Eleven minutes later, the ship they're waiting for finally arrives. Moments after landing, the ramp opens and everyone in the docking bay feels a jolt nervous anticipation.

Even Corin has to struggle to remain at attention and not turn his head to look. He's only in the second row so he'll have a good view soon enough, but hearing the breathing apparatus growing louder and louder makes it damn hard to just stand still and wait to see.

The Imperial Army have many legends, but none as great as the man about to walk by Corin. He's heard stories about him for so long that it is like Corin is about to see some divine creature.

They all keep still, stand to attention, rows upon rows of shiny soldiers in perfect alignment.

And, suddenly, there he is.

Corin watches with rapt attention, his heart hammering away like crazy, as Darth Vader's towering shape moves by him like an eclipse. His black armor seems to absorb the light, his cloak billowing behind him as if it is a living creature and there is an undeniable aura of lethal power radiating from him.

There are countless stories about Darth Vader, his powers and his achievements, and watching him now; Corin finds he believes all of them. He feels a tingle of fear run up his neck at there sight of him. Fear and awe.

With Darth Vader on their side, there is absolutely no way the Empire could lose.

Exhaling a faint smile, surrounded by his friends, Corin can't wait to do his part on the battle field, like Darth Vader, and maybe then, one day, his father could look at him and feel pride instead of shame.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A third insight into the past

Mose watches from above through the castle window as Corin and Din make their way towards the ship and can barely make out the movements of the tiny child in Corin's arms.  
It's a bittersweet sight. Sweet because them deciding to visit to check out the new place meant he got to spend time with the tiny one, but also bitter because he knows there is no guarantee he will be allowed to see or hold that little child again.  
It's strange how Mose can take a physical beating and barely feel a thing, but that thought actually hurts? 

“Hey.” Zev'sonya's voice says as she appears to sit down on the window sill, one leg folded under the other, and looks down at the visitors leaving as well. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn't I be?” Mose asks.

Zev'sonya shrugs, then glances over at him. “You've grown attached to that child, haven't you, Mo-Mo?”

Annoyed, Mose lets his tongue loll out for a moment, but waits until the ship takes off before he shifts his focus over on Zev'sonya. She knows he hates that nickname. “Doesn't matter. Gone now.”

“You always were a big softie when it comes to kids.” Zev'sonya observes, resting a wrist on her knee and her head back against the window frame.

Which is why it has been so wonderful to finally meet a child that isn't afraid of him. That smiles when Mose appears and seeks his company and laughs when they play. “Is there a point to this?”

“He likes you too. You're good with him.” Zev'sonya awkwardly offers as some sort of consolation for them leaving. “Corin and Din see it too.”

Mose snorts a laugh. “Corin thinks I should have a Huttlet so the kid would have a playmate.”

Zev'sonya purses her lips for a moment, then shrugs. “You could, you know.”

That actually startles Mose enough to turn slightly to face her with a narrow glare. “Not funny.”

“I'm not joking.” Zev'sonya gets up on her feet to stand facing him. “Not because of them, but if it is something you want? You can.” She manages a faint smile, back to being awkward. “You know I'd support you, yeah?”

Mose sighs. “It's not an option.”

“Why not?” Zev'sonya tilts her head. “So far I haven't heard you say you don't want it, so what's the problem?”

Mose shifts his body to look out the window again. “It would be a lonely life for a Huttlet.”

“That Huttlet would have the Galaxy's most awesome aunty Zev.” Zev'sonya counters with a grin.

That actually makes Mose smile a little, but it is tainted with sadness and he glances over at her again. “If I'm lucky and one of your stupid, impulsive decisions doesn't get you killed, I may get to have you for fifty more years. Then you'll be gone. I'm going to be around a lot longer than that, _Lorda_.”

Zev'sonya stops smiling as well and takes a step closer to him. “Then maybe even a bigger reason? So you won't be alone?”

Mose shakes his head. “No. Being a Hutt means you are the scum of the Galaxy. Everyone hates us, most with good reason, and I don't want to bring an innocent soul into being to expose them to that kind of hatred just because I want something. My father did that to me and I can never forgive him for it. I refuse to do that to another Huttlet. I refuse to be that selfish.”

They both look out the window again, sees the ship disappear out into space and it is Zev'sonya who breaks the silence.  
“Maybe you and me just aren't meant to be happy, Mose? Maybe happiness is not meant for souls like us.”

Mose sighs. “Maybe not.” He reaches out and taps a light finger to her elbow. “But I think there is some food left? You hungry?”

Zev'sonya puts on a smile. “I could eat.”

“Good. Let's go. Before that human of yours eats it all.”  
“He's not mine. Stop calling him mine. He is definitely not mine.”  
“He definitely is.”  
“Shut up.”  
“Yes, _Lorda_.”

\- - -

Hauroko watches over Leave-it as he sleeps. The medical room is quiet except for the faint hissing of the machines monitoring his vitals. She has just sent Kiergan to get some rest and he'll be back in four hours to take over the watch.

The attack had been especially bad this time and Leave-it had almost been completely unable to breathe while Kiergan had sprinted to get the meds.

Hauroko blames herself. Leave-it always tries to wiggle his way out of the check-ups and this time she'd been too tired to make him do the blood tests. He's a grown man and should be allowed to make his own decisions about his health, but Hauroko refuses to let her friend die because he is scared. Considering his future, she'd be terrified too.

But out here, free from the army, at least they have a future.  
A future, however brief, they owe to Michael.

She remembers the last time she saw him; packing up her final things and Leave-it dragging him into the quarters to show him his new living space.

_”You still here?” Leave-it releases Michael and steps closer to where Hauroko is zipping up her bag. He looks over at Kiergan lounging on his bed at the opposite side of the room and points at Hauroko. “Why is she still here?”_

_“I'm leaving, I'm leaving!” Hauroko declares with a grin, hoisting her bag up over her shoulder. “I was just getting the last of my stuff.” She knows Leave-it is still upset over that she'd accepted the promotion to squad leader and was moving out, of their squad and their room._

_“Good.” Leave-it snipes and grabs a hold of Michael to drag him closer. “Because here we have someone who will actually appreciate us.”_

_Nodding, the words rolling off her, Hauroko meets the gaze of a very embarrassed Michael. “Don't forget; he needs to get those blood tests done every three weeks. Kiergan is going to need your help with that.”_

_“Oh, like you care.” Leave-it mutters, sitting down on the bed._

_Michael nods. “I know.” He hesitates, then adds; “You're going to lead the Forest Trooper squad?”_

_“Yeah.” Hauroko can't help grinning. She is really looking forward to the challenges and rewards._

_“Be careful.” Michael says instead of congratulating her._

_Hauroko frowns. “What do you mean?”_

_“I heard that Gideon cut down the previous squad leader because she spoke to him at the wrong time.”_

_Scoffing, Hauroko shifts her weight uneasily. “That's just rumors.”_

_Michael makes a thoughtful sound. “I'm not so sure.” He sees Kiergan and Leave-it are watching him too and he flushes slightly. “Come on. You've all heard the things he's done. The cities? The kids? There just seems to be too much detail for all of that to simply be made up.”_

_Hauroko frowns. “I don't believe it.” She can't believe it. She's done too much in Moff Gideon's name to even consider him to be such a monster. Wouldn't that make her a monster too, by default?_

_“I've also heard that CT-113 is still alive.” Michael says, a touch of eagerness in his voice and a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Maybe you'll be the one to find him?”_

_“If I do, he's one dead man, I can tell you that.” Hauroko winks at Michael. “The guy is a traitor. And don't worry about Moff Gideon. He's tough, yeah, but he's a good man. You can trust him.”_

_Michael frowns.  
As if he understood something she didn't.  
And by the time she did, it was too late._

_Everyone was dead._

_Including Michael._

Hauroko grabs a cloth, wets it with cold water and gently wipes the sweat away from Leave-it's brow. 

While they all mourned Michael, he was closest to him and took his death hardest. It was the only time she saw him cry. And yet Leo didn't hesitate to put his own grief aside to help Hauroko after Gideon had slaughtered her squad in front of her eyes and cut her face.  
He and Kiergan both carried her through her agony and refused to leave her behind when they realized that Michael was right and they decided to find CT-113.

It was too late for Michael, but his words managed to save them in time.

\- - -

Paz stares. He sees but he cannot believe what he's seeing. His eyes observes, but his mind refuses to accept it.  
How was this possible? How?!

Raga is standing next to him. She's quiet. As if she too cannot believe what she's seeing.

Barthor is standing by the waist high concrete slab with the body on top of it. He has one hand on the body's breastplate that is covered with blood, but he doesn't say a word.

Disbelief, devastating grief and burning fury, it's all a whirlwind inside Paz. He wants to keep denying what he's seeing. He wants to scream. He wants to kill something.

The Covert is silent. Everyone knows what has been brought home. Now everyone is just waiting.

A short while later, there is sound as Din comes scrambling through the door, only to freeze and stare as well.  
His heaving breaths are loud in the small, dark room.  
Din is the first one to speak. “Who? Who did this?” His voice is choked with grief and rage too.

“We don't know.” Barthor replies quietly, sounding numb. “They took his helmet and his blaster.”

“WHO?” Din screams.

Barthor merely slowly shakes his helmet. They don't know.

“We will find out.” Raga says. There is a deadly promise in her voice. “We will kill them and bring him home.”

Paz swallows. He can't speak. He can't. His eyes are burning.  
Unlike Din and Raga, Paz still has a biological father. But like Din and Raga, Davarax was the only father-figure Paz had that believed in him and loved him no matter what.

Din walks closer to the cement slab. Paz can see he's trembling so hard his entire body is shaking.

“We will find the one responsible, Din.” Raga repeats, her voice breaking on his name, and she clenches her hands into fists to stay gathered.

Paz feels a tear slide down his face, swallows hard yet again, but more follow.  
He can't believe it.  
He can't believe Davarax is gone.

There is the sound of footsteps and they all turn to face and bow down when the Armorer enters the room.

She walks over to the cement slab as well, Din scuttling out of her way without lifting his helmet to look at her, and she stares at the silent shape lying on it for a long while. Finally she speaks; “Get out.”

Paz turns and walks out. He pauses out in the hallway and waits.

Raga is first to appear. Her helmet is hanging low and her shoulders are shaking.

Paz reaches out an arm and she instinctively moves over and allows him to wrap it around her. 

Next is Barthor, who seems to be walking in a daze. Paz lifts the hand of the arm he has around Raga and waves him over. Barthor shuffles to stand in front of him and rests his visor to Paz' breastplate, sobbing softly. Paz places a comforting hand to Barthor's neck. His own tears remain silent.

The last one to appear is Din, who is jittery and dangerous.

Paz holds out his free arm. He waits in silence as Din hesitates, then he also moves over to Paz. Din grabs on to Paz' armor and holds on _tight_ while Paz wraps his arm around his shoulders.

The four stand united in their grief for while, still struggling to understand that their beloved teacher is gone forever and flailing under having no one to direct their anger and need for revenge at.  
Davarax had been the one person to bring them together. Who brought out the best in them. Who always forgave them when they messed up. He was always there for them.  
Davarax was the kind of father Paz wants to be.

Suddenly Din lets out an angry shout and he pushes himself away, spins around and stalks off.

Paz watches him disappear into the darkness and realizes they lost more than Davarax today.

  


[](https://imgbb.com/)  
Gorgeous and heartbreaking art by the amazing art-deity Cac0daemonia!

  


\- - -

“I don't understand.” Macero Valentis says, disappointment lacing his voice. “I have given you everything, done my very best to prepare you, spent so much time and effort on you, and yet you keep failing me? You keep disappointing me.”

Corin keeps his gaze on the floor as they walk along one of the many shiny hallways in the Star Destroyer. “I'm sorry, father.”

“Yes, yes.” Macero scoffs. “You're always sorry. It's pathetic. You're pathetic.”

Corin hunches his shoulders slightly and fights against the urge to apologize.

“You should have achieved some accomplishments by now.” Macero continues. “I have seen the reports on others in your class. They excel, while you...” He scoffs again. “You're a nobody.”

It takes no small amount of strength to keep his back straight and keep walking next to his father. Corin feels himself starting to sweat. “I will do better. I promise.”

“You better.” Macero glares over at him. “You embarrass me. Have you any idea what it is like for me to have to face the other officers and hear them talk about their sons, while I have _you_? Why can you never make me proud? Are you punishing me?”

Corin glances up at him, startled. “N-no, of course not. I will do better.”

Shaking his head, Macero comes to a stop and stands looking at him. “You have done nothing but fail me since the day you were born. I keep trying, keep hoping, but you insist on letting me down.”

“I-I'm sorry...” Corin whispers, staring at his father's shining boots, unable to meet the accusatory glare. “I'm trying. I just...”

“I'm glad your mother isn't alive to see how much of a disappointment you are.” Macero states.

Corin struggles to find the words that will make this stop but can't find any. He tries to stand both at attention and as non-threatening as possible. “Father, I...”

“Apologies, Major!” A voice interrupts and there is the sound of footsteps. “But your son is requested for a very important mission.”

Corin glances over as he recognizes Pat's voice, even though he is wearing Storm Trooper armor and his voice is twisted by the helmet.

“What?” Macero blinks, confused. “Corin? Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.” Pat replies, taking a hold of Corin's arm. “I am sure. I was specifically asked to get Corin Valentis and bring him to the docking area where he will be deployed on a very important mission, sir.”

Macero hesitates, but gives a nod.

Corin looks from Pat to his father and back again, numbly obeying when he's tugged along. And once they are at a safe distance, he looks up at the helmet. “What do you think you're doing?” There is no mission. Corin knows there are no missions he's signed up for.

Pat drags him around a corner, knocks on a door and when it opens to reveal Drop in civilian clothing, he shoves Corin at him. “Have fun, kid.”

Drop catches him and then drags him along further. “Come on. We have to hurry.”

“Where are we going?” Corin asks, stumbling along.

“To your ride.” Drop replies with a grin, shoving a duffel bag over at him. They enter the docking area and Corin is dragged over to one of the transport ships where Drop then pushes him towards the ramp. “Enjoy!”

Clutching the bag, Corin stares back at him with wide-eyed confusion. “What is going on?”  
A hand grabs his shoulder and he'd pulled backwards into the ship with a yelp only to find himself facing a grinning Dee.

“Sit down. We're taking off.” Dee explains and guides him to his seat.

“Dee, what-” Corin stutters while Dee buckles him up.

“You'll see.” Dee replies, sitting down next to him. He then gets comfortable and closes his eyes.

It's barely a two hour flight and they are the only ones on it except for the pilots. Dee appears to sleep for most of the journey and Corin is waiting for something horrible to happen.

After they land, Dee and the pilot agree on them being picked up in three days and Corin stands helplessly in the cargo-area, clutching the bag Drop had given him.

“Relax, kid.” Dee grins at him as the ramp behind Corin opens. “I had to call in three favors, Pat had to blackmail a guy and Drop bribed two officers to get us this gig. We're going to repair a communication antenna.”

Corin frowns, at the end of his patience and what his nerves can handle. “What are you...” He turns to look at their surroundings as he hears the ramp touch ground and the words die on his tongue as he sees the snow covered landscape outside.

Dee steps up next to him. “Unfortunately your dad will have left the Star Destroyer by the time we get back there due to a mission I heard he is going on, but I'm afraid this repair job couldn't wait.”

Corin slowly looks over at him, stunned, unable to speak.

Dee's grin widens and he steps into the snow. “Come on, kid. Let's go.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davarax takes the Fearsome Four on a field trip!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://ibb.co/qjQ3wWN)  
> -  
>  _The too kind cac0daemonia used her incredible powers and brought this heartbreakingly adorable sketch of the Fearsome Four to life! Paz' in the back, Din to the left, Raga to the right and little Barthor (three years older than Din) in front. I absolutely adore how well she captured each of their personalities, Paz' big embrace and confident smile, supercute and uncannily accurate Din based on the boy who played him the series, tiny Barthor with his curly hair and missing tooth, and Raga the Feral Child with her wild hair and wild attitude. I could study every curl in Raga's hair and the folds in their clothing until the cow's came home. This is just PERFECT! And of course, that meant I had to write something... Something 'short'..._

“It's a bad idea.” She says, pausing a moment to look over at him.

Davarax shrugs, still leaning against the doorway of the forge, arms lazily crossed and with calm confidence in his decision. “They need to experience things. Even if we are to dwell below, they will have to venture out eventually and they need to know what is waiting for them out there.”

“You could tell them.” She replies, her voice dry. She lands a hard strike on the metal in front of her and sparks fly up around her.

“It won't be the same.” Davarax stands up and walks over to her. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Trust me.”

“You know I do.” She replies, and lands another hard strike on the metal.

Davarax nods, turns and walks out of the room.  
He stops by his room, picks up his travel gear and heads over to pick up Paz.

The boy is standing outside the door to the Vizla quarters, bag hanging from his shoulder and a small paperbag with treats in his hand, but Davarax frowns as he sees no sign of the excitement he'd shown earlier at the prospect of going outside.

“Hey. You ready?” Davarax asks, carefully scanning the boy's face.

Paz nods, plops a snack into his mouth and chews down on it. A flicker of disgust appears before he forces it away and keeps chewing. “Yeah. Let's go.”

Davarax doesn't move. “What's that?”

“Kukuia nuts. They taste so bad.” Paz sighs. “Father says I need to cut back on the good snacks or I'll get fat.”

Clenching his jaw for a moment, casting a foul glance at the door, Davarax briefly plays with the idea of confronting the leader of the Vizla clan. Paz has always been bigger than the other children, he's almost a head taller than Din already, and Davarax suspects Paz is going to keep growing and end up even taller than his father. Which means that this child's body is going to need all the nutrition it can get its hands on for building blocks.  
Forcing the anger away, Davarax clears his throat and turns his focus back to Paz. “Yeah, well, you are 'my' student.” He grabs the paperbag and tosses it away. “I decide your training and eating habits. And I brought something better you can have on the ship. Let's go.”

Paz' gloom is replaced with a bright grin and he hoists his travel bag before eagerly trotting after Davarax.

Din is next on the path. Like Paz, the boy is already waiting out in the hallway and his dark eyes flicker anxiously. He was the only one of the four who had not been happy with the idea of going outside. 

Davarax suspects the child is worried that some androids will appear and kill them all, like in his nightmares. He reaches out and places his hand on Din's tiny shoulder. “You good?”

Din nods. He's pale and anxious, but too brave to shy away from the mission. Always so serious.

“It's going to be okay.” Davarax says, squeezing the shoulder gently. “I promise.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Paz says, his chest puffed up with a Vizla arrogance that is just hilarious on a 12 year old. “Don't worry, Din. I'll protect you. Remember?”

Din nods again, tries to smile and looks a little less terrified at least.

Davarax nods as well, then marches off to pick up number three with his two first in tow.

Raga. He can hear her long before they are close enough to knock on the door. As usual. And he's not quite happy with Paz' approving laugh at this.  
Hesitating for a second, praying this will go easier than last time, Davarax knocks on the door.

The door slides open, Raga's mother gestures to the left and he steps inside to see.

Raga and her oldest brother appears as a ball of hair, fists and feet, rolling around on the floor as the girl does her very best to land punch after punch.

Sighing, Davarax walks over and waits for the opportune moment.  
It arrives when the children roll by him and Raga ends up on top. Davarax quickly slides an arm around her waist and lifts her, and while she tries to hold on to her wailing brother, he is too heavy and she is forced to let go with a furious yowl.

“Tomorrow?” Raga's mother asks for confirmation, holding out Raga's travel bag as he walks by her with the shrieking and flailing Raga.

“Tomorrow.” Davarax confirms, takes the bag with his free hand, and then marches off with three out of four of his infamous troublemakers.

Barthor is waiting by the exit. His bag is by his feet, quiet and prepared and his nose is in a book, as usual.

Davarax pauses before he approaches the runt of the litter. He glances down at Raga, who is now hanging over his arm like a limp towel. “No fighting.”

Raga scoffs. Her wild hair is covering her face completely but she scoffs so hard that a long curl does a fancy dance.

Sighing, Davarax puts her down on her feet and ushers her over to Paz.

Paz reaches out a hand and she takes it with a soft grumble. She uses her other hand to push her hair out of her face and appears to calm down a little.  
Davarax cannot explain why Paz has that effect on her, but by Mandalore, he will use it!

Leading the three over to Barthor, who looks up and pockets his book, Davarax takes up position in front of the door that will lead them outside. “Okay. Listen up. This is important. There are rules and these rules are to be obeyed. Understand? The world outside the Covert is dangerous.”

Four young faces look up at him, attentive and respectful. Good. He gives them the rules, makes sure they all swear to obey, and once he actually believes them, or rather that he believes Raga, Davarax turns and opens the door.  
He leads them outdoors, carrying his and Raga's bags, and he brings them on board the Razor Crest.

-

It's not a long journey. Only seven hours. He wants to bring them to the heart of the forest at the other side of the planet, where they will be able to see the night sky, hear the sounds of the wilderness and be relatively safe from any real threat.  
He'd told her it was to prepare them for the day when they have to step outside the Covert, which is true, but mostly Davarax wants them to experience some fun in their lives too. The other teaches are reluctant to let them join in on their activities, and his children have their own personal struggles to deal with, so a little fun would do them good.

After about two hours, Raga is busy exploring every part of the Razor Crest that she can squeeze her skinny body into. Paz, full on the sugar treats Davarax had given him, is asleep on the floor and Barthor uses him as a pillow while he continues to read his book. Din, however, is a quiet, hovering presence by Davarax' side.

Turning his helmet to glance over at Din, Davarax finds him watching with keen interest. He is studying the radar, the controls, everything. Usually Din doesn't take much interest in anything.  
“She's quite the ship.” Davarax says with badly hidden pride. He could not care less about fancier models. The Crest has never let him down. She will look after her pilot like a loyal friend.

Din nods with a touch of awe. His eyes flicker over the control board without a hint of fear. 

Davarax has an idea. “You want to try?” He nods towards the controls.

Din quickly looks over him with huge eyes. “Really?”

“Really.” Davarax confirms, motioning him over. “I'll show you. Come on.”

Din's too small to reach some of the controls, but it helps when Davarax picks him up and places him on his knee. Pointing and explaining, he instructs Din and it barely takes any time at all before the young boy is the one flying the ship.  
Grinning like an idiot, Davarax gently pats Din's fragile back. “That's it. You got this, Din. Keep it up and one day, maybe you'll be the one piloting her.”

And the proud grin on Din's face? Makes the trip worth it already.

Din more or less flies the rest of the way and Davarax only takes over when it is time to land. He sends Din to wake Paz and help Barthor get Raga out of wherever she's stuck or refusing to come out from.  
The Razor Crest touches down on a small clearing surrounded by huge trees. Davarax makes sure every child has his and her travel bag, their jackets and proper boots, before lowering the ramp and leading them off the ship.

They look around with huge eyes, part nervous and part excited. They have been outdoors before, Din more than the others, but this is an unfamiliar place and they are not experienced with nature.

“This way.” Davarax walks off towards the place he had decided would be a good spot to set up camp when he'd scouted this area three days ago.

For once, the children are quiet as they follow him, probably busy staring at their surroundings, but they quickly snap to when they get their assignments and do not hesitate get started.  
Davarax watches with badly hidden pride as they scramble about and do their best, alert but relaxed, already such promising Mandalorians. He doesn't care what the other teachers say, he knows his children will do well. They will bring good luck to the Covert.

Once their camp is set, Davarax brings them along to experience the surrounding area. He lets them see and experience everything, answers every questioned asked (which can be a challenge when you have Barthor around) and only has a minor heart attack when he sees Raga disappearing up a tree. (How can that skinny little thing climb so fast?!)  
“Why didn't you stop her?” Davarax asks Paz with no small amount of distress. How is he supposed to get her down? He can fly up, sure, but the branches are way too thick for him to reach her.

Hands in his pockets, Paz shrugs with utmost calm. “Why should I? She can handle it.”

“She's never climbed a tree before.” Din points out, squinting as he looks up and tries to spot her.

Paz shrugs again. “She can handle it.”

Davarax is on the verge of considering using his blaster to clear away some branches and work his way in when there is a soft thump and Raga lands on her feet next to him, brushes some dirt off her shirt and saunters over to Paz. 

“You were right.” She says. “Not a village in sight.”

“New rule.” Davarax barks. “No climbing trees.” And when Raga spins around to yell at him, he adds; “Without asking first.”

She considers it and to everyone's surprise, she nods.

If fresh air can make Raga listen, Davarax swears he will take her for daily walks.

-

It's not just her. It seems like the air, the exercise and the unfamiliar surroundings are doing wonders for all of them. There are smiles instead of constant bickering.  
They actually work together to collect fire wood and prepare food instead of trying to sabotage each other. Raga trails after Paz, insisting he teach her how to carry as much as he does and Paz tries not to smile as he explains that she needs to train up some muscle first.

To give them a vague excuse as for why they had come to this place, Davarax sets up some practice drills and some games he pretends to be chores. It's a huge success.

And when the sun sets, they gather around the fire and listen to Barthor explaining which star is which, the different planets and some of the legends surrounding them. Din asks genuine questions instead of making fun of him. Paz is quietly cutting away at a small piece of firewood and turns it into what Davarax can only guess is meant to be the Razor Crest and he promises the boy he will guard it with his life. Raga is sprawled on the ground, half the planet in her hair by now and the rest on her clothes, but with a dazed smile on her face as she stares up at the stars.

At one point, there is a distant howl and the children all tense up.

Davarax knows there are predators in these parts, but none who would dare attack them. He opens his mouth to reassure the children that there is no danger, and even if it were; Davarax has his blaster, but then there is a second howl and it is much closer.  
Paz scoots over and ends up against Davarax' right side. “I'm not scared,” he mumbles, pale and with flickering eyes, “I'm not, I just...”

Raga scrambles to burrow between him and Davarax. “Cold. It's cold.”

“Y-yeah.” Paz wraps an arm around her, and refuses to look at Davarax. “Cold. That's it.”

“Definitely cold.” Din declares, crawling over on all fours in a hurry until he can settle against Davarax' left side. 

Grinning, Davarax reaches out and places his arms around them, feeling like some kind of mother bird. “Well, I can't have you guys catching a cold. That would be bad.”

Barthor snorts with contempt. “It's not cold. It's-”

A branch snaps somewhere in the darkness.

In a blur, Barthor is over by Din, clinging to his arm and Davarax' lifts his hand to reach Barthor's shoulder too in a reassuring touch. “Maybe a bit cold?” Davarax says, fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Maybe a bit.” Barthor mumbles awkwardly.

There are a couple more howls, but distant and no real threat, though enough to make the children stay where they are and Davarax doesn't mind. The camp fire flickers and dances and after a while, Davarax starts humming an old Mandalorian lullaby. It's the most peaceful night he's had in years.

When morning comes, Davarax feels strangely reluctant to leave.

Paz is shuffling around, more asleep than not, and Din gently prevents him from walking straight into a tree. Raga is sitting on a rock and looking through one of Barthor's books while Barthor himself is making sure that everyone has remembered everything.

“Hey.” Davarax calls out, gets their attention. “Over here. Now.”

Paz rubs the sleep out of his eyes, rolls his shoulders and forces himself awake before walking over. “What?”

Raga jumps up on Paz' back, pulls herself up by wrapping her arms around his throat and peering over his shoulder. “What?”

Davarax gestures all for to stand in front of him. They do, somewhat confused, but again; not really bickering with each other or him. It is really something to remember.  
“Picture time.” Davarax says, going down on one knee and activating his vambrace. “Squeeze together. Look this way.”

Paz eases Raga down, guides her in front of him with a grip on her shoulder, then ushers Barthor in front of her again and wraps his arm around Din.

And for one moment, forever stored on Davarax' vambrace, the Fearsome Four were just four very happy children in front of the teacher they all loved.  
In that moment, the future seemed so very bright.


End file.
